This Place Was An Empire
by Great Gomerel
Summary: Alex spends one final day working for Dr. Montgomery. AddisonAlex. Oneshot.


"This Place Was An Empire." Not mine. Alex spends one final day working for Dr. Montgomery. Addison/Alex. One-shot. Ignores all spoilers for 3x20.

(So the premise is overdone and unoriginal. Whatever. I needed my spin-off therapy, thank you very much.)

-----

He brings her a vanilla latte in the morning. It's cheesy and obvious and not usually his style, but he figures the humiliation can't last for long. She'll be gone tomorrow. She can't laugh at him for long.

Addison takes the cup from her intern with lightly tossed-off, "thanks," but when she sips it and recognizes the contents, her left eyebrow lifts and she looks at him with amusement and something a little like a wistful appreciation. He immediately regrets it; he feels his cheeks redden with embarrassment. He clears his throat and tries to wave the gesture off by throwing a chart down in front of her. She doesn't really need to read it over, and she doesn't take the bait.

"I did tell you that you'd miss me," she deadpans, but her eyes are teasing and sympathetic. She was a tiny bit disappointed by his reaction when she told him she was going. Not that she _wanted _him to miss her, really, but all the same it would have been nice to have a sign from him that he'd notice. So she is glad he's showing _some_ awareness of her soon-to-come departure.

She has been in a strange state of hyper-lucidity since arriving an hour earlier. Voices are louder. Colors are brighter. People are more distant. The latte brings her back to earth. It puts Karev right here in front of her; it makes him real to her. It's the caffeine, perhaps, and the shock from the burn on her tongue. Whatever it is, it's good to feel a part of the world again. She can even admit, now, that it will be a shame when he's no longer around. She's the one going away, but she feels more like it's he who's slipping out of her orbit.

But he's clearly uncomfortable, and she's too nice a person to make him suffer further. So she lists out the day's instructions and puts him right to work. She throws him a quick, pretty smile that makes his chest hurt a little when she's done giving him the orders.

-----

She's been helping her successor, Dr. Carlton, get adjusted. When she leaves her intern will be transferring to work with him instead. She thinks the new guy's pretty good, but she and Karev both secretly suspect that there is no way he'll measure up to her.

So she's giving him a list of tips for his career. Some of it is specialty-specific: what the best conferences are, where to submit papers, how to nab a leadership position on the national board. The rest is general life advice. She urges him to always keep the end goal in mind. Not to get bogged down by the details of residency. Not to let the system kill his dreams. She tells him how she feels about him, professionally.

"When I first came here, I will admit: I didn't think you'd amount to much." He winces when she states it but grins and shakes his head acceptingly. He had been an ass to her, after all.

"But since then, I've decided you're the most talented intern in your cohort." He looks up in surprise.

"And I'm not just saying that because I've been working with you primarily." She bites her lip and considers how much she should put out there. He's an arrogant prick, sometimes, but she doesn't _really_ think his ego is that big.

"Yang is gifted, but she'll never have anything remotely like a decent bedside manner. Grey lacks serious, consistent ambition. O'Malley's not that smart. And Stevens, well, I thought she had a gift, but her empathy really sort of backfired. But you—you've surprised me, time and time again. You've started being really great with patients. You're dedicated and hard-working. You whine like a baby sometimes, but when you do put your mind to learning stuff, you surprise me with the depth and comprehensiveness of your research. So, yes, I think you have a really bright future. I think you're going to make a fabulous neonatal surgeon."

He's beet-red now and racks his brain for something to say back. He settles for the trite and obvious: "Well, you've been a pretty cool teacher, I guess."

She smiles and ducks her head—she likes to think so, herself, but it's nice to hear it anyway. The way he hated her before makes the words that much sweeter now. She thanks him and passes him her stethoscope.

"Tell me what you hear," she instructs him. He puts the cold metal to the premie's chest and listens in.

-----

He was pissed when she first told him she was going. He masked the hurt and settled for indifference. When he saw that his response had hurt her, he immediately regretted it. But Alex doesn't back down that often. So he's been acting like he doesn't care every day since her announcement. Today, though, he's starting to really wish he hadn't. Because he's remembering all the times she's asked him for reassurance—that he cares, that _somebody_ cares, that he'd notice if she was gone. Maybe if he hadn't been so cold, things would be different. It's too late to fix that—she isn't the sort to back out of professional obligations once she's finished making arrangements—but he kind of wants her to know that if he could, he'd take back the way he acted. His brain whirs for the rest of the day looking for a way to do that.

-----

At lunch, he pays for their cafeteria food. It totals just $15.71, but the gesture makes him feel good. She's amused by his insistence—his whole bank account is probably her idea of a decimal point—but she finds it rather cute of him, anyway.

He asks about the place she's headed, and she tries to give him a picture of the people she'll be working with. She's disappointed by how bland their descriptions sound to her own ears. They're not an interesting bunch. Then she wonders how she would describe Karev, to them, and finds she has no words. It isn't identifiable, this thing about him that makes her find his looks and actions worth the effort of constant scrutiny. She finds him vaguely fascinating, really, but it's in his _air_, not anything she can pinpoint. This realization makes her hopeful that her new coworkers will be the same. It also helps strike home just how _much _she wishes she could take him with her.

If she had signed with a teaching hospital in L.A., she thinks she might have asked him to accompany her. Because she has a lot to offer, as a mentor, and she's confident it would have been a wise decision on his part. But they don't have interns where she's going, and she's not ready to admit that she wants him there in any other capacity.

If she _were _ready for that thought, she might be ready to confess that she's touched and made a little breathless by the way he's looking at her now. Because he's talking nonsense, small talk and the details of the day, but his eyes drink in her face as though he's trying to burn her image onto his brain forever.

That makes her breath stop, just a little.

-----

He's a boy, and boys don't cry, or else he'd say he's close to tearing up as they finish their last C-section together. Because he really likes the sound of her voice in surgery: cool, even tones that give instructions with the calm of a late-night easy-listening radio announcer. She gets jumpy and quirky on her own, sometimes, and if she was a girl his age and not his boss he'd be tempted to call that cute, in its way. But her presence in surgery is just powerful. It helps him get why the Greeks thought the god of the hunt was a chick, and not a dude. Because seriously? Goddesses really do exist. He believes that.

It doesn't hurt that he gets to stand next to her when they cut. Their patients are small: to get a good look (he's here to learn), he has to lean in pretty close. Her hair's tied up, which is alright, but then again he doesn't really mind when it brushes over him. But he can feel the length of her upper arm along his side; she has strong arms but somehow they're still soft to the touch. If she moves a certain way, he sometimes lucks out and feels the curve of her breast press against him temporarily. It takes him a second to recover from that usually.

Not that he has a thing for her, or anything. But she's hot, and well, he's not the kind of guy to mind.

-----

He helps her take the last box of folders and assorted office crap to her car. Well, this is it. He's not ready to tell her that he'll miss her yet (though he knows he will). But he finds himself searching for a way to stall her.

"Just so you know, uh," he can't quite believe the words are about to come out of his mouth, "you've done good stuff for us. At the hospital, that is. I mean, I think it's helped me out… knowing you. Or whatever." He doesn't specify just how she's helped.

She frowns with sudden exasperation. It's too much and not enough. Why is he telling her this now? And is that all? She lets the annoyance slip into her tone a bit in her response.

"You're trying to make it just a _little_ harder for me to leave, aren't you?" But not trying _hard_ enough to make her stay. Not willing to make that jump.

"No," he says a little defensively. He's not really sure what he meant. His next words are a surprise to him, as well. "I'm trying to make sure that _when _you leave, you get to take something good with you, from Seattle."

"So I can feel bad about leaving here." How selfish.

"So you'll know there's something here to come back for." And there it is. He's said it. He doesn't think she'll stay, but there's an annoying, insistent part of him that desperately hopes she won't be gone too long.

"What makes you think I'd ever think of coming back?" She can't stand the look of _hope _in his eyes. It hurts too much. She's about to have a fresh start. She hates this town, this hospital, and the people here. She's not _supposed_ to miss him—anyone, or anything—after she's gone.

"I don't." He hesitates, but well, he's not himself today. And it seems to be a day for honesty. "But that doesn't mean that I don't want you to."

She doesn't respond to that. Her eyes lower and she turns her face away a little. Well, then. She did ask for more. She guesses that's her answer. He's not the sort to go much further. From him, that means… a lot. And she's been really good today and in-control and now there are tears in her eyes and _God _she hates that. He's standing there, all hurt and hopeful, and she can't face him any longer or she'll kiss him, because she _gets_ that way when he looks at her like that. So she slams the trunk and opens the door and pauses just to say the words without turning back. Because she will not be a pillar of salt. L.A. awaits her.

"Good-bye, Dr. Karev." And there's a _please _and _I wish_ and _I'm sorry _and _I can't_ in that.

She backs out and drives off, and he stays standing where she left him for a good ten minutes before he finds the will to move again.

-----

A/N: If you prefer a happy ending, I suggest you go read or finish off _False Optimism _:). Cheers, GG.


End file.
